THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT  OF 

Gladys  Wickson 

Wickron  Thomas 
Ednah  Wickson  Kelly 


PUBLISHED   BY 

THE  AMES  &  ROLLINSON  PRESS 

203    BROADWAY 

NEW  YORK. 


AILZA,    THE    IBERIAN. 


THE, 

IBERIAN 


ANGLO-GREBK.  PLAST 


OSBOF.N 

WITH  MV5IC  BY 

H.CLAIBORNE  DIXON 


ipufgjfgjrgjfffliiifafaifafaufiiifa 


MAIN  LIBRAKY 


COPYRIGHT,   1903 

BY   OSBORN    R,    LAMB 

DRAMATIC    RIGHTS   AND 

RIGHT  OF  TRANSLATION 

RESERVED. 


THE 

MUSICAL    SCORE 

COMPOSED  BY 

H.  CLAIBORNE  DIXON 

CONSISTING  OF 

THE   PRELUDE 

THE 

THREE   CHORAL   HYMNS 

AND  OTHER 

INCIDENTAL  MUSIC 

WILL  BE 
PUBLISHED     SEPARATELY. 


682 


Introduction* 


"lo  N  writing  "The  Iberian"  we  have  attempted  to 

combine  in  a  play  of  one  act  the  beauties  of 

the  ancient  Greek  drama  with  those  of  the 

modern  romantic  play,  so  as  to  adapt  the 

same  to  the  stage  and  scenario  of  to-day. 

We  have  followed  the  ancient  drama  in  the  uni 
ties  of  time,  place  and  theme,  and  have  also  re 
stricted  our  plot  to  the  utmost  simplicity,  employ 
ing  the  least  number  of  characters  possible  to  de 
velop  it;  the  Chorus  and  Semi-Chorus  we  have 
made  to  appear  upon  the  scene  as  was  the  Roman 
custom.  These  beautiful  lyrical  characters  lent  a 
charm  to  the  ancient  drama  which  has  ever  been 
lacking  in  that  of  our  modern  school.  However,  we 
have  willingly  followed  the  latter  in  some  essential 
details,  believing  that  by  so  doing  we  should  attain 
a  most  pleasing  and  artistic  combination. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  call  attention  to  the 
different  forms  of  verse  employed.  All  students  of 
Shakespeare  recognize,  as  he  did,  the  necessity  of 
variety,  which  when  not  carried  to  excess  affords 
a  certain  pleasure.  An  additional  zest  is  added  in 
reading  a  play,  for  one  must  then  build  in  imagina- 


ii 


tion  the  character,  passions  and  emotions  of  each 
personage  from  their  dialogues ;  this  will  give  a  sat 
isfaction  to  the  intelligent  reader  which  the  narra 
tive  form  of  writing  cannot  do,  for  that  is  based  on 
the  theory  that  the  writer  has  all  the  imagination, 
and  the  reader  little  or  none  at  all. 


12 


ATHENS. 

The  Scene  of  the  Play. 
435  B.  C. 


THENS  had  attained  the  very  zenith  of  her 
glory  by  the  year  435  B.  C.  The  Hellenic 
League,  formed  for  the  mutual  protection 
of  the  Grecian  States  against  the  Persians, 
was  still  in  force,  the  maritime  power  of  Athens  then 
extended  over  the  entire  Greek  coast  and  islands, 
the  great  treasure  on  the  sacred  island  of  Delos  had 
been  transferred  to  Athens,  and  vast  sums  were 
being  expended  for  the  beautification  of  the  city 
under  the  wise  direction  of  Pericles,  their  first  citi 
zen,  who,  together  with  the  greatest  architects, 
engineers  and  sculptors  of  the  day,  was  making 
Athens  the  wonder  of  the  world.  The  Parthenon 
was  rebuilt  and  adorned  with  the  most  beautiful 
sculptures  by  Phidias,  the  Erechtheum  had  been  re 
built,  the  Propylaea  erected,  the  colossal  statue  of 
Athena  in  gold  and  ivory  by  Phidias  had  been  com 
pleted,  and  the  Acropolis  began  to  be  called  the 
City  of  the  Gods. 

The  city,  moreover,  had  been  adorned  with  marble 
colonnades,  fountains,  and  beautiful  groves  in  which 
the  idle  populace  could  linger,  and  amid  all  loomed 


the  great  theatre  of  Dionysus,  capable  of  seating 
ten  thousand  people.  Here  the  great  tragedies  of 
-ZEschylus,  Euripides  and  Sophocles,  and  later  the 
incomparable  comedies  of  Aristophanes,  were  pro 
duced  with  a  magnificence  which  has  never  been 
equaled. 

As  the  Olympian  games  were  developing  the 
highest  type  of  physical  manhood,  so  the  great 
philosophers  Anaxagoras,  Zeno  and  Socrates  were 
developing  the  minds  of  the  youth  of  Athens,  and 
producing  a  noble  type  of  men  and  citizens.  When 
we  consider  that  during  the  golden  age  of  Pericles, 
a  period  of  only  thirty  years,  there  lived  in  Greece 
the  great  philosophers  and  historians  Anaxagoras, 
Zeno,  Socrates,  Protagoras,  Democritus,  Empe- 
docles,  Meton,  Herodotus,  Thucydides  and  Hip 
pocrates,  the  wonderful  poets  -£Eschylus,  Pindar, 
Sophocles,  Euripides,  and  the  master  sculptors 
Phidias,  Polyclitus  and  Myron,  we  must  admit  that 
there  has  never  been  produced  since  such  an  array 
of  genius.  What  wonder,  then,  that  we  still  seek 
the  shrines  of  Athens  for  inspiration  in  philosophy, 
architecture  and  poetry. 

While  all  this  is  quite  true,  it  must  not  blind  us 
to  the  defects  of  the  Athenians  or  their  policies. 
Though  they  boasted  of  their  democracy,  their  fickle 
ness  in  matters  political  was  proverbial,  and  it  is  sur 
prising  to  learn  that  Pericles  remained  in  power 
thirty  years.  Moreover,  the  average  intelligence  of 


the  populace  was  very  low;  superstition  was  ram 
pant,  and,  what  was  worse,  idleness  was  sapping  the 
morale  of  the  people;  freedmen  considered  it  de 
grading  to  work,  which  consequently  had  to  be 
performed  by  a  vast  army  of  slaves;  but  what  was 
worse  than  all,  the  greatness  of  Athens  was  built 
upon  the  most  unstable  of  foundations — that  is  to 
say,  conquest  and  tribute.  As  a  result  the  Pelopen- 
nesian  war,  which  was  soon  to  follow,  left  Greece 
open  to  the  attacks  of  her  foreign  enemies,  and  from 
that  day  forth  her  greatness  declined. 

The  scene  of  this  play  is  laid  in  the  home  of  Lu- 
cian,  a  wealthy  and  public-spirited  citizen  of  Athens 
during  this  brilliant  period. 


IBERIA. 

The  Native  Land  of  Ailza. 

Tj>BERIA  was  the  ancient  name  of  Spain  or  that 
territory  now  comprising  Spain  and  Portu 
gal  which  is  still  known  as  the  Iberian  Pen 
insula. 

The  Iberians  are  probably  the  oldest  race  of  which 
we  have  any  tradition,  and  are  still  represented  by 
that  remarkable  people,  the  Basques  of  Northern 
Spain  and  Southern  France,  whose  origin  has  ever 
been  a  mystery.  Of  their  great  antiquity  we  have 
ample  proof  in  their  language,  which  philologists 
tell  us  has  no  analogy  to  that  of  any  of  the  Aryan 
invasions,  the  Celts,  Cymrys,  Teutons  or  Slavs; 
moreover,  history  states  that  they  occupied  western 
Europe,  as  far  north  as  Britain,  prior  to  any  other 
known  race.  If,  however,  we  can  believe  Plato's 
story  of  Atlantis,  the  explanation  of  their  origin  is 
very  simple.  He  states  that  they  came  from  the  west, 
and  lived  for  centuries  in  a  high  state  of  civilization 
and  happiness  upon  an  island  of  untold  richness  and 
beauty,  situated  in  the  Atlantic  Ocean  west  of  the 
Pillars  of  Hercules  or  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar;  this 
island  was  destroyed  by  a  great  earthquake  in  a 
single  night,  and  the  Azore  Islands,  which  still  re- 


16 


main,  are  believed  to  be  the  mountain  tips  of  that 
sunken  island.  Plato  says  this  island  was  of  vast 
extent  and  was  the  way  to  other  islands  beyond,  by 
which  its  mariners  did  reach  a  mighty  continent  far 
in  the  west,  which  they  believed  to  be  the  very 
limits  of  the  earth. 

It  is  this  fascinating  story  which  Ailza  the  Iberian 
tells  the  children  of  Lucian  in  the  opening  scene 
of  the  play,  and  it  is  the  knowledge  of  the  existence 
of  the  American  continents  which  she  leaves  them 
as  an  heritage. 

NOTE. 

To  those  who  desire  to  pursue  this  interesting 
subject  further,  we  would  refer  them  to  Donnelly's 
"Atlantis,"  in  which  may  be  found  an  excellent 
translation  of  Plato's  story,  together  with  the  sub 
marine  charts  of  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Azore  Islands,  made  by  H.  M.  S.  Challenger 
and  the  U.  S.  S.  Dolphin,  as  well  as  much  other 
data  of  great  interest, 


THE   IBERIAN. 
Characters. 

AILZA — An  Iberian  and  slave  to  Lucian. 
LUCIAN — An  Athenian  of  wealth  and  refinement. 
PHILLADA— Wife  of  Lucian. 
HECTOR— Their  son,  a  youth  of  twelve  years. 
HELEN — Their  daughter,  a  maid  of  ten  years. 
EROS— An  Ethiopian  slave. 

CHOBUS. 

SOPRANO — Principal  lyrical  character. 
ALTO — Antiphonal  lyrical  character. 
TENOR — Third  lyrical  character. 
BASS— Fourth  lyrical  character. 

NOTE. 

Throughout  the  play  the  part  indicated  as  Chorus 
should  be  by  the  Soprano  and  that  as  Semi-Chorus 
by  the  Contralto;  the  Third  and  Fourth  Lyrical 
characters  appear  only  to  accompany  the  Choral 
Hymns  (see  Musical  score). 


18 


PRELUDE 

By   Orchestra. 

Then  the  outer  curtain  is  raised 
and 

Enter  Chorus  (from  left). 
Semi-Chorus  (from  right). 

They  stand  before  the  divided  or  second  curtain 
an  instant,  then  kneel  vis-a-vis  and  recite  the  prayer 
herewith. 

CHORUS  AND  SEMI-CHOBUS. 

(Kneeling  vis-a-vis)  (Recite) 

O,  mighty,  glorious  and  immortal  Jove, 
Who  rulest  all  things  wisely  from  above, 
The  source  of  all  that  is,  or  is  to  be, 
Thy  faithful  loving  servants  e'er  are  we. 

CHORUS. 
(Standing) 

The  universe  is  thine,  and  just  thy  sway, 
To  all  who  lovingly  thy  laws  obey ; 
With  peace  and  happiness  dost  thou  requite, 
The  brave,  the  good,  and  all  who  love  the  right ; 


But  on  the  wicked,  who  in  frenzy  free 
Insult  thy  name  with  oaths  and  mockery, 
Thy  heavy  hand  doth  fall. 

SEMI-CHORUS. 
(Standing) 

Almighty  Jove, 

To  thee  all  people  cry  when  in  distress, 
The  old,  the  young,  the  poor  and  comfortless, 
Nor  dost  thou  e'er  forget  their  piteous  cry, 
When  it  is  given  with  due  humility; 
Full  rich  in  bounty  hast  thou  ever  been, 
Now  let  thy  charity  again  be  seen 
In  this  Athenian  home. 


20 


CHORAL  HYMN 

Sung  by 

CHORUS   AND   SEMI-CHORUS. 
(Sing  together) 

To  thee  we  sing,  O  mighty  Jove, 
Whose  grace  we  ask  and  bounteous  love, 

While  we  our  vigil  keep ; 
Make  not  our  task  too  hard  to  bear, 
For  mortal  life  is  filled  with  care, 
With  woe  and  pain,  and  oft  despair, 

To  those  whom  we  call  weak. 

Yet  let  the  weak  but  thee  implore, 
Thy  mercy  crave,  and  name  adore, 

Thy  grace  will  e'er  be  given ; 
Then  let  the  message  which  we  bring 
Be  peace  and  love,  that  we  may  sing 
The  praises  of  thee,  mighty  King, 

Wh*b  rulest  earth  and  heaven. 


21 


CURTAIN. 
Preceded  by  Sweet  Music. 

Exit  Chorus  to  left.  Exit  Semi-Chorus  to  right. 

SCENE    I. 
The  Garden  at  Sunset. 

The  home  of  Lucian  in  Athens,  period  about  435 
B.  C.  The  scene  shows  the  garden  or  court  with 
fountain  at  back,  and  in  the  distance  a  typical 
Athenian  landscape;  in  center  stage  a  table  with 
two  Grecian  chairs,  and  at  left  shrubs  and  flowers; 
at  the  right  a  low  terrace  leads  to  the  entrance  to 
the  house.  One  may  pass  in  front  of  this  terrace  to 
the  town. 

All  the  details  must  be  strictly  in  keeping  with  the 
period,  and  exhibit  the  beauty  and  refinement  of  an 
Athenian  home. 


22 


SCENE  I. 

The  Garden 

at 
Sunset. 


SCENE  I. 
Ailza's  Story. 

AILZA. 

(Seated    center    stage,    Helen    seated   left,    Hector 

kneeling  right) 

There,  there,  sweet  children,  now  my  duty's  done, 
Away,  enjoy  yourselves,  before  the  setting  sun 
Hath  cast  its  last,  most  glorious  golden  ray 
Upon  this  happy  scene,  and  happier  day. 

HECTOR. 

Nay,  nay,  we  leave  thee  not,  until  thy  promise 
Thou  shalt  keep,  to  tell  us  such  a  tale  as 
Shall  our  sympathies  enthrall,  and  make  us 
Weep  for  very  pity. 

AILZA. 

What  was  it  that 
I  promised  ye?    I  have  forgot. 

HELEN. 

O,  surely 

Thou  dost  well  remember,  'twas  of  thy  home, 
Thy  people  and  thy  land. 


AILZA. 

I'd  rather  speak 
Of  other  things,  'tis  much  too  sad. 

HELEN. 

Ah,  no; 

'Tis  this  we  wish,  we  love  thee  so,  and  fain 
Would  love  thy  people,  and  thy  land  as  well. 

AILZA. 

'Tis  very  sweet  of  ye,  dear  children, 
(pause,  she  embraces  them) 

Ah,  well,  then  be  it  so,  know  that  my  land 
Is  called  Iberia. 

HECTOR. 

And  where  is  this 

Iberia? 

AILZA. 

Oh,  'tis  very,  very 

Far  from  Athens,  far  out  toward  the  setting 
Sun,  where  this  your  lEgean  Sea  doth  pass  the 
Gates  of  Gades,  and  flow  into  that 
Limitless  ocean  which  some  believe  entours 
The  world ;  there  is  my  land,  there  was  my  home 
Alas,  now  lost  to  me  forever. 

HELEN. 
And  is  it  beautiful  this  land  of  thine? 


26 


AILZA. 

Aye,  that  it  is,  most  passing  beautiful. 
Far  from  the  sea,  great  mountains  rise  to  heights 
Supreme,  their  tops  forever  tipped  with  purest 
Snow,  which  glistens  in  the  sun  like  diamonds; 
Below  vast  forests  grow,  whose  stately  trees 
Surround  the  mounts,  and  like  an  army  are 
Its  sentinels ;  through  these  great  forests 
Rushing  waters  flow,  their  streams  uniting 
Form  swift  rivers,  which,  with  a  force  most 
Irresistible,  soon  reach  the  vale  below : 
And  there,  O  beauteous  land,  the  valleys  stretch 
In  vast  expanse,  their  fields  so  rich  with 
Golden  grain,  their  verdant  pastures  filled  with 
Lowing  herds,  which  with  the  murmur  of 
The  streams,  the  music  of  the  shepherd's  pipe, 
All  blend  into  a  scene  so  truly  pastoral, 
So  fair  beyond  compare,  that  words  do  fail 
Me  quite. 

HELEN. 
How  beautiful,  how  beautiful. 

HECTOR. 
Thy  home  then  was  it  here? 

AILZA. 

In  this  fair  valley, 

Nestled  in  a  shaded  vale,  stood  peacefully 
Our  home,  nor  happier  one  was  there  in  all 


27 


The  land — until — alas — the  cruel  wars 
With  fire  and  with  sword  swept  all  away. 
(Pause) 

My  father  in  fierce  battle  fell :  my  mother 
Died  of  grief ;  and  I,  the  toy  of  fate,  in 
Cruel  bondage  sold,  to  gratify  our 
Enemies.    O,  the  horror  of  those  days 
Will  haunt  me  to  the  grave. 

HELEN. 

Then  speak  no  more 
Of  them,  but  tell  us  of  thy  father ;  he 
Was  of  noble  birth  I  trow? 

AILZA. 

Aye,  a 

Nobleman  was  he,  by  birth  and  character. 
He  was  beloved  by  all,  and  ruled  with  kindness 
O'er  his  vast  estates,  for  in  that  which  the 
World  doth  prize  the  most  he  was  most  fortunate. 
He  had  at  his  command  so  many  slaves, 
And  husbandmen,  and  men  at  arms,  that 
Even  I  knew  not  their  number ;  but  when 
They  all  were  come  together  they  did  seem 
A  veritable  army. — And  in  the 

Mountains  near  our  home  vast  mines  had  he,  which 
Furnished  silver  in  abundance,  so  that 
We  ate  and  drank  from  vessels  made  of  this 
Rare  metal. 


28 


HECTOR. 
Then  truly  he  was  rich,  thy  father? 

AILZA. 

Aye,  rich  were  we,  and  happy  too,  nor  wanted 
Aught,  but  that  in  peace  all  should  enjoy  and 
Share  the  bounties  of  our  home. 

HELEN. 

Are  all 
Iberians  then  so  rich? 

AILZA. 

Nay,  'tis  much 

The  same  in  our  fair  land  as  here  in  Hellas. 
All  try  to  reach  the  vaunted  goal,  but  few 
Achieve  success. 

HECTOR. 

But  whence  came  these  Iberians? 
Were  they  natives  to  this  land  of  thine,  or 
Came  they  from  some  foreign  parts  ? 

AILZA. 

Iberia, 

As  we  call  our  land,  was  ne'er  the  cradle 
Of  our  race.    What  few  of  us  remain  are 
But  the  remnant  of  a  nation  prehistoric, 
Which  centuries  on  centuries  ago 
Did  dominate  the  world. 


29 


HECTOE. 

'Tis  wondrous  strange, 
What  now  thou  dost  recount. 

AILZA. 

Aye,  strange  in  truth, 
Yet  true  beyond  the  question  of  a  doubt, 
For  truth  doth  ever  rival  fantasie. 

HECTOR. 
Then  were  thy  people  older  than  th'  Egyptians? 

AILZA. 

Ere  Memphis  was  and  Thebes,  ere  Nineveh 
And  Babylon,  ere  Troy,  ere  even  history 
Itself,  our  people  were,  and  lived  and  thrived 
Beyond  the  wildest  dreams  of  fancy,  for 
They  were  favored  of  the  gods, — Poseidon 
Was  their  patron  god,  and  Atlas  their  first 
King,  from  him  their  land  was  called  Atlantis. 

HELEN. 
WeVe  never  heard  of  such  a  land. 

AILZA. 

Yet  'tis 

No  myth ;  Atlantis  was  an  isle  so  fair, 
So  rich,  so  beautiful,  that  poets  to 
This  very  day  find  not  the  words  to  picture 
Its  delights. 


HECTOR. 

And  where  was  this  Atlantis? 
AILZA. 

Beyond  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  far 

Out  toward  the  setting  sun,  i'  the  very 

Midst  of  that  great  ocean  which  we  do  call 

The  Sea  of  Og,  there  rose  that  beauteous  isle. 

It  was  of  vast  extent  and  was  the  way 

To  other  isles  beyond,  by  which  its  mariners 

Did  reach  a  continent,  far  in  the  west, 

So  vast  and  great  that  they  did  well  believe 

It  was  the  very  limits  of  the  earth. 

HECTOR. 

We've  never  heard  of  such  a  continent. 
AILZA. 

Yet  there  it  still  must  be,  else  is  our  history 
Simply  mockery ;  ye  Hellens  are  no 
Mariners,  but  these  Atlanteans  feared  not 
The  dangers  of  the  deep.    Great  ships  had  they, 
And  greater  hearts  which  bore  them  far  from  home 
To  foreign  countries,  which  ye  Hellens  know 
Not  of.    In  ancient  times  vast  fleets  did  come 
And  go  from  the  Gades  to  this  isle ;  'twas  thus 
Our  people  came  to  yon  Iberian  shores, 
In  which  there  must  have  been  a  Providence, 
For  thus  the  gods  do  still  preserve  the  remnant 
Of  a  race,  once  rich,  once  great  and  powerful. 


HECTOR. 
How  comes  it  that  so  few  remain? 

AILZA. 

"Like  leaves  on  trees,  the  race  of  man  is  found, 
Now  green  in  youth,  now  withering  on  the  ground, 
Another  race  the  following  spring  supplies, 
They  fall  successive,  and  successive  rise, 
So  generations  in  their  course  decay, 
So  flourish  these,  when  those  have  passed  away ;" 
Thus  sung  thy  poet  Homer  five  hundred 
Years  ago. 

HELEN. 

Then  died  this  race,  like  many 
Since,  through  wars  and  pestilence? 

AILZA. 

Nay,  listen, 

For  centuries  they  lived  in  peace  and  walked 
The  paths  of  virtue,  the  god-like  spirit 
Having  yet  remained  within  them,  but 
Avarice  and  luxury  soon  ate  into 
Their  hearts,  and  stilled  their  consciences,  so  that 
They  needs  must  conquer  all  the  world.  Forth  went 
Their  fleets  on  cruel  conquest  bent,  proud  victory 
Waited  ever  on  their  arms,  until  it 
Seemed  as  though  they  were  supreme;  the  wealth 
that 


Flowed  into  their  country  then  surpasses 

All  belief;  no  land  has  ever  seen  the 

Like,  nor  e'er  will  see  again.    So  rich  and 

Arrogant  were  they,  so  drunk  with  their  success, 

So  utterly  insensible  to  right 

And  truth,  that  there  went  up  throughout  the  world 

A  cry  unto  the  gods,  to  shield  it  from 

Their  tyranny ;  and  when  the  gods  did  hear 

This  piteous  cry  they  were  exceeding  wroth, 

And  wishing  to  inflict  a  punishment 

That  ne'er  should  be  forgot,  they  caused  the  floods 

To  come,  the  earth  to  quake,  and  in  a  single 

Night  this  beauteous  isle,  with  every  living 

Thing  upon  it,  sank — deep  down  into  the  sea. 

HELEN. 
How  terrible. 

HECTOR. 
How  horrible. 

AILZA. 

And  when 

The  gods  perceived  the  awful  havoc  they 
Had  wrought,  their  hearts  were  filled  with  pity ; 
Then  did  they  vow  that  ne'er  upon  this  earth 
Again  should  their  just  wrath  be  visited, 
Forever  and  forever. 


33 


HELEN. 

'Tis  very,  very  sad,  this  wondrous  tale, 
E'en  now  the  tears  do  fill  mine  eyes. 

AILZA. 

Aye,  sad 

Indeed,  no  tragedy  with  it  can  e'er 
Compare. 

HECTOB. 

As  thou  didst  speak,  I  thought  of  that 
Hesperides  of  which  our  poets  sing. 

AILZA. 

The  gardens  of  Hesperides  and  this 

Atlantean  isle  are  to  my  mind  the  same: 

But  mark,  thy  poets  sing  of  it  as  of 

A  myth,  while  I  to  ye  do  truthful  history 

Proclaim. 

HECTOR. 
But  rests  there  naught  to  prove  this  tale? 

AILZA. 

Aye,  this :  a  living  monument  have  we 
In  our  Iberian  race,  a  dead  and  silent 


34 


One,  in  these  rough  mountain  tops  which  still  project 
Into  the  sea,  far  in  the  boundless  west. 

HECTOR. 
Then  when  I  am  a  man  I'll  seek  them  out. 

(Eros  enters  with  a  lighted  lamp  and  awaits  the 
children.) 

AILZA. 
(Standing) 

Aye,  noble  youth,  when  thou  art  man  set  sail, 
With  gallant  ship,  caress  a  favoring  gale, 
Until  these  mountain  tips  thou  shalt  espy, 
Then  let  thy  prayers  go  up,  and  give  the  cry, 
Now  onward,  onward,  to  the  setting  sun, 
To  seek  the  land  of  which  sweet  Ailza  sung, 
For  thou  shalt  reach  this  land  beyond  the  sea, 
'Tis  Ailza's  loving  heritage  to  thee. 

EBOS. 

(Approaching) 
The  hour  is  late. 

AILZA. 

(To  Eros)  I  know,  good  Eros. 

(To  the  children) 

Sweet  children,  give  me  now  a  fond  caress, 
There  's  naught  can  melt  the  heart  like  tenderness, 

(She  embraces  them  with  emotion) 


35 


AILZA. 

Good-night, 

HELEN. 

Good-night, 

HECTOR. 

Good-night, 
(as  they  are  passing  out) 

HELEN. 
(To  Hector) 

When  thou  set'st  sail,  thou'll  take  me  with  thee, 
Hector? 

(Their  voices  die  in  the  distance) 

Exeunt  Hector,  Helen  and  Eros  to  house. 
Exit  Ailza  to  garden. 

End  Scene  I. 


SCENE  II. 

The  Garden 

at 
Evening. 


37 


SCENE  II. 

Enter  Chorus  from  left  and  Semi-Chorus  from 
right  and  recite. 

CHORUS. 

Now  night  draws  near  and  peace  is  all  supreme, 
No  sound  is  there  to  mar  the  tranquil  scene, 
The  tuneful  songbirds  all  have  sought  their  nest, 
And  man  and  beast  alike  now  seek  their  rest ; 
But  lo,  the  evening  star  sends  forth  its  ray, 
To  bid  us  'wake,  and  sing  our  joyful  lay. 
O  thou,  whose  twinkling  eye  sees  everything, 
To  thee,  sweet  Hesper,  we  shall  sing. 

SEMI-CHORUS. 

O  Hesper,  Phosphor,  star  of  dual  name, 
What  satellite  can  half  such  beauty  claim? 
None,  save  the  moon,  who,  goddess  of  the  night, 
Gives  forth  her  clear  but  not  thy  tranquil  light, 
As  thou  doth  guide  the  wanderer  on  his  way, 
Be  thou  our  guide  until  the  break  of  day, 
For  weary  be  the  darkening  night  and  long. 
O  Hesper,  hear  our  even  song. 


39 


CHORAL   HYMN  TO  THE  EVENING 
STAR. 

Sung  by 
Chorus  and  Semi-Chorus. 

All  Hail, 

Thou  glory  of  the  midnight  sky, 
All  Hail! 

Evening  star,  so  softly  beaming, 
O'er  the  hills  and  o'er  the  dale, 
Where  fair  Nature  now  is  dreaming, 
Let  thy  tranquil  light  prevail ; 
Safely  through  the  sombre  gloaming, 
Lead  the  wanderer  on  his  way, 
And  to  all  the  creatures  roaming 
Be  their  beacon  till  the  day. 

Listless  lovers,  night  prolonging, 
Seek  thy  grateful  beams  of  love, 
Claim  thee  goddess  till  the  morning 
Breaks  with  splendor  from  above ; 
Yet  with  all  the  planets  vying, 
Send  thy  radiance  from  afar, 
E'er  the  Heavens  glorifying, 
Hail,  all  Hail,  Sweet  Evening  Star. 

Exit  Chorus  to  left. 

Exit  Semi-Chorus  to  right. 


40 


SCENE  II. 

Lucian's  Dream. 

Enter  Lucian. 

LUCIAN. 

The  sun  hath  set,  refreshing  night  draws  near, 
And  yet  I  roam  from  place  to  place  in  search 
Of  some  distraction,    (pause)     At  last  the  evening 
Breeze  hath  come — e'en  now  it  wafts  across  my 
Heated  brow  and  bids  merest,  (pause)  Blowon,thou 
Gentle  zephyr,  and  with  thy  silent  touch 
Essay  to  calm  the  restless  spirit  here 
Within  me. 

Enter  Phillada. 

PHILLADA. 

Ah,  thou  art  come,  my  Lucian? — but  weary 

Art  thou — aye,  and  sad.    Why,  what  hath  passed, 

Have  I  done  aught  to  vex  thee?  or  is  it 

That  the  cares  of  state  fall  heavily  upon 

Thee  now? 

LUCIAN. 
(Makes  no  reply  but  simply  shakes  his  head) 


PHILLADA. 

Then  surely  something  grave  hath  happed 
To  make  thee  thus.    Come,  let  me  share  thy  cares 
With  thee ;  I  have  the  right,  thy  faithful  wife 
I've  ever  been  and  thou  canst  trust  in  me. 

LUCIAN. 

But  if  I  should, — I  fear  that  thou  wouldst  laugh 
At  my  credulity, 

PHILLADA. 

Nay,  that  I  will  not, 

There, — I've  promised  thee, 

LUCIAN. 

Well  then  resolve  me 
This :  where  is  it  that  we  travel  when  we  sleep  ? 

PHILLADA. 
What  idle  fancy  courses  through  thy  brain? 

LUCIAN. 

Nay,  answer  me,  these  apparitions  which 
We  all  call  dreams,  are  they  of  fact  or  fancy 
Born? 

PHILLADA. 

Alas  I  know  not.    Some  say  they  do 
Portend  events,  still  have  I  had  no  proof 
Of  this ;  but  yet, 


LUCIAN. 

It  might  be  possible. 

PHILLADA. 

It  may  be,  who  can  tell? 

LUCIA!*. 

Well  then  it  rests 

With  us  to  solve  the  riddle  if  we  can, 
And  thus  forewarned,  to  be  forearmed. 

PHILLADA. 

'Tis  wisely 

Said,  my  Lucian — but  speak,  say  what  it 
Is  that  hath  unnerved  thee  thus. 

LTJCIAtf. 

Last  night 

I  dreamt  that,  weary  of  the  cares  of  state, 
I  wandered  far  from  home,  to  breathe  the  sweet 
Inspiring  air  of  spring,  and  as  hath  often 
Been  my  wont,  I  strayed  far  in  the  Campagna, 
In  search  of  some  fair  spot  where  I  might  rest 
In  peace  and  quietude.    At  last  good  fortune 
Guided  me  into  a  charming  glade 
O'erbowered  with  trees  just  budding  into  leaf, 
Through  which  the  noonday  sun  streamed  forth  in  all 
Its  glory ;  beyond  my  feet  a  velvet 
Sward  of  brilliant  emerald  lay  spread,  through 


43 


Which  a  crystal  stream  with  rippling  laughter 
Wound  its  way,  no  other  sound  disturbed  the 
Scene,  and  I  content,  yet  weary  too  withal, 
In  gladness  lay  me  down  to  rest: — Scarce  had 
The  beauty  of  the  scene  impressed  itself 
Upon  my  mind,  when  lo !  the  piercing  cry 
Of  warning  of  a  wood  nymph  rent  the  air. 

PHILLADA. 
A  wood  nymph,  sayest  thou? 

LUCIAN. 

Aye,  e'en  so; 

The  cry  all  hunters  know  so  well.    I  looked 
About,  but  naught  could  I  discern,  when  from 
The  thicket  near  at  hand  a  fawn  sprang  out, 
And  then  irresolute  stood  still,  as  if 
Imploring  heavenly  aid  to  fend  it  from 
Some  enemy.    Some  hunter  is  at  hand 
Thought  I ;  then  jumping  to  my  feet  I  saw 
A  youth  near  by,  with  bow  well  strung,  and 
Arrow  poised,  about  to  launch  the  shaft :  with 
Speed  of  thought  I  struck  the  weapon  from  his 
Hand ;  he,  knowing  not  from  whence  the  stroke  did 
Come,  in  terror  fled,  while  I,  in  wonder, 
Still  beheld  the  fawn,  all  trembling  where  she  stood. 

PHILLADA. 
Alas,  how  fear  unnerves  us  all. 


44 


LTTCIAN. 

I  marvelled 

Much  at  this,  and  in  the  bounty  of  my 
Heart,  I  thought  to  take  it  in  my  arms,  that 
I  might  calm  its  fears ;  with  reassuring 
Mien,  I  silently  approached,  for  now  I 
Saw  how  beautiful  it  was,  and  pity 
Filled  my  heart.    At  last  I  reached  its  side  and 
Softly  stroked  its  head,  while  it,  transfixed  by 
Fear,  stood  trembling  like  a  leaf;  encouraged 
Now  at  this,  I  took  the  gentle  creature 
In  my  arms,  caressing  it  the  time,  while 
With  its  wondrous  eyes  which  peered  in  mine  it 
Seemed  in  silent  look  to  speak  its  gratitude. 
Thus  for  a  moment  only  did  my  happiness 
Endure,  when  lo !  the  piercing  wood  nymph's  cry 
Again  rang  out,  and  sent  a  thrill  that  chilled 
Me  to  the  heart.    I  turned  to  see  from  whence 
The  sound  had  come,  when,  with  an  effort  almost 
Supernatural,  the  frightened  fawn  leaped 
From  my  arms,  and  fell  upon  the  sward — DEAD. 

PHILLADA. 
Incredible. 

LUCIAN. 

And  then,  as  if  to  taunt  me  yet 
The  more,  the  woodland  rang  with  mocking 


45 


Laughter,  till  I,  beside  myself  with  fear,  gave  forth 
A  cry,  and  then  awoke  all  trembling. 
And  now,  go  where  I  may,  do  what  I  will, 
This  mocking  laughter  seems  to  haunt  me  still. 

PHILLADA. 

A  strange,  weird  tale  is  this,  yet  in  all  truth 
Naught  can  I  see  that  doth  portend  an  ill. 

Re-enter 

CHORUS  AND  SEMI-CHORUS. 

They  remain  at  right  and  left  of  scene  and  over 
hear  Phillada's  reassuring  speech  to  Lucian. 

PHILLADA. 
(Advances  and  speaks  earnestly) 

Thou  art  by  nature  strong  and  bold, 
A  woman  I,  of  frail  and  gentler  mould, 
If  I,  from  this  weird  dream  can  naught  discern, 
Then  thou  hast  naught  to  fear,  nor  aught  to  learn. 
Thy  dream  is  not  of  fact,  but  fancy  born, 
Some  rest  will  soon  dispel  it  ere  the  morn, 
With  sunny  laughter,  wake  us  all  in  glee, 
And  show  how  idle  these  weird  fancies  be. 

Exeunt  Lucian  and  Phillada  to  house. 

46 


CHORUS. 

'Tis  clear  that  this  assurance  's  all  in  vain, 

No  subtle  argument  can  ever  gain 

The  confidence  where  superstition  dwells ; 

It  warps  the  judgment,  and  all  reason  quells, 

While  fear,  instead,  holds  its  relentless  sway, 

And  haunts  the  mind  throughout  the  livelong  day. 

SEMI-CHORUS. 

Nor  can  we  see  what  cause  there  is  for  fear, 
No  tragedy  's  at  hand,  no  danger  near ; 
A  happier  home  no  mortal  e'er  could  gain, 
Where  love  and  confidence  forever  reign. 
Yet  we'll  be  near,  nor  close  our  eyes  in  sleep, 
But  ever  faithfully  our  vigil  keep. 

Exeunt  Chorus  left 
and  Semi-Chorus  right. 

Re-enter  Ailza  from  garden. 

AILZA. 

Ah,  childhood's  happy  days,  how  bright  are  they, 
When  free  from  care,  from  toil  alike  relieved, 
We  romp  and  play,  we  love  and  dream,  and  in 
Our  dreams  build  up  the  visions  of  a  future 
Far  more  beautiful  than  poet's  pen  can 
Paint.    As  years  roll  on — alas,  how  quickly 
All  these  childish  dreams  dissolve,  when  in  their 
Place  we  face  the  stern  realities  of  life, 


47 


With  cares  that  try  our  very  souls, — 'tis  well 
The  future  's  not  disclosed  to  us,  else  would 
Our  courage  fail  us  ere  the  fight  began. 

Re-enter  Phillada  from  house. 

PHILLADA. 
Ailza — alone?  and  sad  again? 

AILZA. 

Nay,  musing 
Only. 

PHILLADA. 
The  children  ne'er  have  had  a  happier  day. 

AILZA. 

Nor  I,  my  lady,  since  I  have  been  a  child ; 

I've  played  with  them.  I've  laughed  with  them, 

With  them  I've  wept  when  they  were  sad,  and  thus 

In  charming  comrady  the  fleeting  day 

Hath  all  too  quickly  flown. 

PHILLADA. 

And  yet  whene'er 
Thou  art  alone,  I  find  thee  sad. 


AILZA. 

I  live 

But  in  the  sunshine  of  their  smiles ;  when  they 
Are  gone,  I  muse  and  dream,  and  then  the 
Vision  of  my  native  land  returns,  our 
Happy  home,  and  all  that  was  so  dear  to 
Me, — 'tis  then  my  heart  grows  sad, — The  fates  were 
Cruel,  when  they  let  me  live,  to  weep  and 
Mourn  alone. 

PHILLADA. 

In  truth  thy  lot  hath  been  most 
Pitiful ;  yet  think  how  hard  it  might  have 
Been,  had  not  my  Lucian  chanced  to  stray 
Into  the  Forum  when  thou  wert  being  sold, 
For  then  that  wicked  Xenathon  would  sure 
Have  gained  his  prize. 

AILZA. 

I  shudder  when  I  think 
Of  it.    I  still  can  see  that  haughty  coxcomb 
Vying  to  outbid  them  all — until — ah  then, 
It  must  have  been,  thy  husband  saw  the  look 
Of  horror  in  my  face,  and  knowing  well 
This  profligate,  did  pity  me  and  bid 
The  sum  which  seemed  to  stagger  all. 


49 


PHILLADA. 

It  was 

Indeed  his  loyal  heart  which  brought  about 
The  act ;  he  hath  confided  it  to  me. 

AILZA. 

I  knew  it,  I  was  sure  of  it,  and  for 
This  noble  deed  I'll  bless  him  till  my  dying 
Day,  for  in  all  Athens  there  is  not  a 
Man  that  would  have  done  the  like,  not  one, 
Not  one. 

PHILLADA. 

'Tis  true.    In  this  kind  Providence 
Did  interfere,  for  surely  till  that  day 
The  Fates  had  done  their  worst ;  all  now  is 
Changed ;  here  in  our  home  thou  art  not  treated 
As  a  slave,  but  as  a  faithful  friend. 

AILZA. 

And  yet  alas,  I  am  a  slave ;  therein 
The  sting  doth  lie. 

PHILLADA. 

If  that  be  all  that  makes 
Thee  sad,  it  shall  be  remedied,   (pause) 
This  very  night  shall  Lucian  procure 
The  writ  which  gives  to  thee  thy  liberty. 
No  bondage  then  shall  hold  thee  in  its  chains, 


None,  none  at  all,  save  those  sweet  bonds  of  love 
Which  Heaven  grant  may  ever  bind  thee 
Nearer  to  our  hearts. 

AILZA. 
(Kneels  and  kisses  Phillada's  hand) 

O,  my  lady,  my 
Sweet,  my  gentle  lady. 

PHILLADA. 

Nor  shalt  thou  ever 

Call  me  lady  more,  from  this  day  forth  my 
Sister  thou  shalt  be ;  thou  shalt  be  free  to 
Go  and  come  at  will ;  our  home  shall  be  thy 
Home  fore'er,  until  perhaps  some  young  gallant 
Of  noble  birth  may  seek  thy  hand  and  bid 
Thee  be  his  wife. 

AILZA. 
(Signifies  her  dissent  at  this) 

PHILLADA. 

Then  shalt  thou  never  more  regret  thy  lot, 
For  in  that  new  born  happiness  thy  sorrows 
All  will  flee,  and  in  their  place  true  joy  abide. 

AILZA. 

O,  my  lady,  how  weak  indeed  my  words 
Of  thanks  appear,  when  gauged  by  thy  most  noble 


Generosity ;  what  can  I  do  to 

Show  my  gratitude?  thy  bounty  hath 

Bewildered  me. 

PHILLADA. 

I  seek  naught  in  return  save  that  which  thou 
Mayst  freely  grant  ere  it  be  asked ;  my 
Children  are  my  hope  and  pride,  they  love  thee 
Tenderly,  their  gentle  natures  are  as 
Clay  within  the  potter's  hands ;  continue 
Then  to  help  them  seek  the  high  ideals  of 
Life,  that  when  they  may  be  man  and 
Woman  grown  they  shall  do  credit  to  thyself 
And  to  our  family  name. 

AILZA. 

A  greater  honor  I  could  never  ask, 

Yet  doth  it  put  me  in  thy  debt  the  more. 

PHILLADA. 

Be  ever  loyal  to  our  house  and  name, 
The  influence  we  hold  is  due,  not  to 
Our  wealth,  but  to  our  loyalty  to  state, 
And  love  of  public  weal ;  yet  in  these  times 
Degenerate,  foul  slander  seeks  to  gain 
What  virtue  might  more  easily  have  won. 

AILZA. 

Fear  not,  my  lady,  I  e'er  shall  be,  as 
I  have  ever  been,  thy  faithful  champion. 


PHILLADA. 

Be  true  to  me,  as  I  shall  ever  be 

To  thee,  remembering  this,  no  friendship  can 

Endure  save  that  in  which  full  faith  abides. 

AILZA. 

I  pray  the  gods  the  day  may  never  come 
When  we  shall  be  forbid  the  secrets  of 
Our  hearts,  for  love  is  born  of  confidence 
Without  the  which  it  perisheth  and  dies, 

(earnestly) 

Should  e'er  the  Fates  deny  me  thy  sweet  trust, 
I  should  not  care  to  live. 

PHILLADA. 

(With  conviction)         That  day  shall  never  come. 
Nor  more  let  thoughts  like  these  engross  thy  mind, 

(slight  pause) 

From  this  day  forth  thy  life  shall  be  more  bright, 
All  cares  will  pass  and  sorrows  take  their  flight, 
True  faith  and  confidence  shall  ever  reign, 
And  love,  our  sweeter  friendship  now  enchain. 
Then  sigh  no  more,  drive  gloomy  thoughts  away, 
The  morrow's  sun  shines  on  a  happier  day. 

Exeunt  Phillada  and  Ailza  to  house. 
End  Scene  II. 


53 


SCENE  III. 

The  Garden 

at 
Night. 


55 


SCENE  III. 

Enter  Chorus  left,  and  Semi-Chorus  right. 
Stand  before  curtain. 

Theme. 

CHORUS  (Recit.) 
Awake,  Awake,  and  let  your  praises  ring, 

SEMI-CHORUS  (Recit.) 
Rejoice,  Rejoice,  to  Jove  our  Mighty  King. 

CHORUS  (Sings) 

Strophe. 

O,  all  ye  spangled  Heavens  above 
And  fruitful  Earth  below, 
Join  with  us  in  our  song  of  love, 
Your  gratitude  to  show. 

SEMI-CHORUS  (Sings) 
Anti-Strophe. 

Ye  mounts  and  meads,  and  valleys  fair, 

And  all  ye  living  throng, 

Ye  mighty  ocean,  sea  and  air, 

Join  in  our  festal  song. 


57 


CHORUS  AND  SEMI-CHORUS  (Sing  together) 
Epode. 

Awake,  Awake  and  let  your  praises  ring, 
Rejoice,  Rejoice,  to  Jove  our  mighty  King, 

The  Father  of  all  creatures  he, 

In  earth,  or  sea,  or  skies ; 

To  him  then  let  our  jubilee 

Like  incense  sweet  arise. 

CHORUS  (Sings) 
Strophe. 

Thy  mighty  works  we  see  each  day, 
Thou  Father  all  supreme, 
Their  strength  and  beauty  all  display 
The  one  eternal  theme. 

SEMI-CHORUS  (Sings) 
Anti-Strophe. 

Thou  art  the  first  great  cause  of  all 
The  source  of  nature  thou, 
None  other  can  our  souls  enthrall, 
Save  thee  to  whom  we  bow. 


CHORUS  AND  SEMI-CHORUS  (Sing  together) 
Epode. 

Awake,  Awake,  and  let  your  praises  ring, 
Rejoice,  Rejoice,  to  Jove  our  Mighty  King, 

Who  is  the  source  of  all  that  's  good 

In  sky,  or  earth,  or  sea, 

He  is  our  everlasting  King, 

To  all  Eternity. 


59 


SCENE  III. 
The  Fates'  Decree. 

Re-enter  Eros  from  house,  places  lighted  lamp  on 
table. 

EROS. 

(Yawning) 
Late  hours  suit  me  not. 

Re-enter  Ailza  from  house. 

AILZA. 
(Seated) 
Good  Eros,  what  's  the  hour? 

EROS. 

'Tis  midnight  if 
I  read  the  heavens  aright. 

AILZA. 

Then  why  hast  thou 
Not  sought  thy  bed? 

EROS. 

I  may  not  yet,  but  must 
Await  my  master,  who  in  haste  hath  just 
Gone  into  town. 


AILZA. 

Dost  know  what  mission  took 
Him  hence? 

EROS. 

Nay,  save  that  I  heard  our  mistress 
Bid  him  bring  a  certain  writ,  she  would  not 
Be  put  off  until  the  morn. 

AILZA. 

The  gods  be 
Praised,  his  errand  then  I  can  divine. 

EROS. 
But  not  so  I. 

AILZA. 

(Gleefully)  Then  list  to  me. 

The  morrow  is  the  feast  of  spring,  the  brightest 
And  most  joyful  season  of  the  year.    Awake 
Me  early  in  the  morn,  that  we  may  pluck 
From  all  the  flowers  that  bloom  such  garlands 
Fair,  and  herbs  of  sweet  perfume  as  may  make 
Worthy  sacrifice  unto  the  gods. 

EROS. 

I  will. 
AILZA. 

The  family  altar  hath  my  loving  care, 
In  all  of  Athens  none  shall  be  more  fair, 


61 


The  gods  at  last  have  heard  my  fervent  plea, 
The  morrow's  dawn  brings  me  my  liberty. 

EROS. 
(Amazed) 
Thy  liberty? 

AILZA. 
Aye,  liberty. 

EROS. 

I'  faith 

I  wish  it  not,  I  am  more  happy  as 
I  am. 

AILZA. 

Ah,  thou,  alas !  wert  born  in  servitude, 
And  art  content  to  serve  with  gratitude 
A  master  who  with  kindness  all  hath  done 
To  make  thee  love  and  serve  his  royal  home, 
But  not  so  I. 

EROS. 

And  yet  methinks  he  loves 
Thee  much  who  grants  thee  such  a  boon. 

AILZA. 

He  loves 
Me  not,  but  pities  me. 


62 


EROS. 

Art  sure  of  this? 

AILZA. 
Aye,  certain  quite. 

EROS. 

(Insinuatingly)  And  yet  'tis  said  that  love 

And  pity  are  akin. 

AILZA. 

(Disconcerted)  They  say — they  say 

Much  that  is  false,  but  leave  me  now,  I  fain 
Would  be  alone. 

Exit  Eros  to  house. 

AILZA. 
(Rising) 

"He  loves  thee  much  who  grants  thee  such  a  boon." 
What  messenger  of  evil  is  this  slave? 
What  dire  insinuation  in  his  words, 
Yet  spake  he  truth,  for  pity  is  akin 
To  love,  (pause)  but  why  pay  heed  to  idle  chatter 
Such  as  this?    'Tis  plain  my  master  loves  sweet 
Phillada,  and  grants  this  boon  to  please  her  whim. 

Re-enter  Chorus  from  left. 
63 


CHORUS. 

Nay,  be  advised,  this  slave  knows  more  than  he 
Hath  said. 

AILZA. 

Then  am  I  blind  indeed ; — 
No  master  is  more  kind  than  mine,  and  none 
More  noble,  or  more  generous.    I'll  not 
Believe  an  evil  genius  doth  possess  him. 

CHORUS. 

Be  blinded  not  by  gratitude,  for  in 

Us  all  the  evil  seeks  to  dominate 

The  good.    When  evil  holds  its  sway  the  path 

Is  difficult. 

AILZA. 

Then  woe  to  me,  my  path  is  sore  beset ; 
One  danger  flees,  another  to  beget. 
Yet  buffeted  and  baffled  though  I  be, 
Though  cruel  fate  drive  on  relentlessly, 
In  courage  born  of  virtue  I'll  confide 
And  duty  now  shall  be  my  only  guide. 

CHORUS. 

Then  on,  brave  heart,  thy  course  is  now  made  clear, 
When  duty  guides,  there  's  naught  for  thee  to  fear. 

Exit  Ailza  to  garden. 

64 


Re-enter  Lucian  from  town. 

LUCIAN. 

(Appears  wild  and  distracted,  the  conflict  within 
him  having  clouded  his  reason) 

How  chill  the  midnight  air  (pours  out  a  cup  of  wine) 
But  here  's  a  remedy  that  none  refuse, 
Except  they  be  in  dotage. 

(Takes  another  cup  and  sits  at  table) 

CHORUS. 

He  hath  a  wild  and  haggard  look.    I'll  try 
To  learn  what  weighs  upon  his  mind. 

LUCIAN. 

The  writ  I  have  secured,  yet  am  I  loath 
To  give  it  her.    She  is  of  high  and  haughty 
Temperament,  and  once  her  liberty 
Attained,  may  wish  to  leave  our  home.    That  must 
Not  be. 

CHOBUS. 
(Aside)    'Tis  plain  he  speaks  of  Ailza. 

LUCIAN. 

She  came  into  our  home,  like  to  a 
Ray  of  sunshine :  she  must  remain,  else  will 
The  radiance  of  the  day  give  place  to 
Gloomy  night. 


65 


CHORUS. 

(Aside) 

But  why  these  fears?  When  one  's  restrained  there  is 
No  liberty,  (loudly)  Come,  let  us  have  the  truth, 
The  ever  living  truth. 

LUCIAN. 

(Somewhat  awakened  by  the  voice  of  Chorus) 
The  living  truth,  I  love  her  with  a  love 
That  transcends  even  that  of  Heaven  above: 
Few  mortals  e'er  have  felt  her  heavenly  spell, 
The  depths  of  which  I  only  know  too  well, 
For  sorrow's  scars  with  mortal  cares  combine 
To  hide  the  beauties  of  that  soul  divine ; 
I,  I  alone,  can  read  her  soul  aright, 
And  I,  alas,  may  not  her  soul  requite. 

CHORUS. 
(Aside) 

The  slave  was  right.    He  is  in  love,  yet  hath 
The  sense  of  duty  not  forsaken  him. 

LUCIAN. 

They  say  the  gods  are  good,  they  give  us  eyes 
To  see,  and  ears  to  hear,  great  hearts  to  love, 
And  be  loved  in  return.    The  very  blood 
Which  courses  through  our  veins  they  charge  with 

their 
Immortal  fire,  and  then,  as  if  to  mock 


66 


Their  noble  work,  they  build  about  us  here 
A  false  environment,  which  none  may  break 
Save  at  their  great  displeasure ;  thus  do  they 
Lift  us  up  to  Heaven,  to  dash  us  down 
To  earth  again: — What  idle  mockery! 

CHORUS. 
(Aside) 
Ah !  now  he  rails  against  the  gods.    In  truth 

Some  evil  spirit  hath  possessed  him, 

I'll  try  to  wake  him  from  the  spell,    (loudly)   Awake, 
Thou  dreamer — Ho,  awake! — cease  thy  senseless 
Railing.    Mock  not  the  gods,  but  be  content. 

LUCIATT. 

I  mock  the  gods?    Ha,  ha,  ha,  (laughing  wildly) 
I  be  content, — with  such  a  mighty  tumult, 
Raging  in  my  heart,  ha,  ha,  ha, — what  irony! 

CHORUS. 

A  fever  hath  disturbed  thy  brain — thou  canst 
Not  see  as  other  men  do  see.    What,  proof 
Hast  thou  that  Ailza  loves  thee  in  return? 
None,  none  at  all.    Thou  hast  mistaken 
Gratitude  for  love. 

LUCIAN. 

(This  retort  seems  to  awaken  him  again  for  an 
instant) 
Nay,  nay,  that  cannot  be,  (pause)  yet  if  perchance 


It  should  be  true,  then  by  what  fate  am  I 
Pursued, — I'll  know  the  truth  to-night. 

CHORUS. 
Now  surely  thou  art  mad. 

LUCIAN. 

(Laughing  wildly) 

Mad,  ha,  ha,  ha,  the  Fates  would  wind  their 
Silent  web  about  me, — Aye  but  let  me 
Learn  the  truth,  then  I  shall  laugh  them  all  to 
Scorn :  the  truth  I'll  know,  cost  what  it  may. 

CHOBUS. 

Then  woe  to  thee — Ah,  woe  to  thee — Nay  seek 
It  not ;  'twill  add  but  to  thy  grief. 

LUCIAN. 

(Wildly)  Away, 

Begone !    Thy  idle  chatter  suits  me  not, 
I  am  the  master  all  imperious  here, 
I  seek  not  thy  advice,  my  mind  is  set, 
Away,  begone,  we  are  but  illy  met. 

CHOBUS. 

Fool,  fool,  the  hand  of  Jove  shall  crush 
Thy  arrogance. 

Exit  Chorus  hurriedly  to  left. 


68 


Re-enter  Ailza  from  garden. 

LUCIAMT. 

Behold  she  comes  as  radiant  as  the  new 

Born  spring,  (hesitating)  I  prith'ee  but  a  moment, 

(hands  her  the  writ) 
Take  this,  it  is  the  gift  of  Phillada, 
Thy  liberty. 

AILZA. 

The  gods  be  praised,  at  last  they've  heard  my  prayer, 
Now  unto  them  1*11  render  fitting  sacrifice. 

(She  kneels  at  his  feet) 
But  unto  thee,  O  good  and  noble  master, 
What  can  I  give?    Alas,  naught  but  my 
Feeble  words  of  thanks,  which  in  their  dire 
Poverty  can  ne'er  bespeak  my  gratitude. 

LUCIAN. 

(Takes  her  hand  and  bids  her  rise) 
Thy  heart  speaks  through  thy  beauteous  eyes,  and 
Silent  though  their  message  be,  they  bid  me  hope 
That  gratitude  is  but  a  part  of  that  great  love 
Which  dwells  within  thy  heart. 

AILZA. 

(Greatly  embarrassed)  My  lord,  I  prith'ee 

Cease 


LUCIAN. 

(Continues  in  his  wild  flight  of  eloquence) 

Nay— 

I'll  speak  the  secret  of  my  heart  tonight, 
I  cannot  longer  bear  this  load  alone, 
And  thou  who  mayst  read  my  heart  aright, 
Will  of  thy  bounty  let  this  act  atone ; 
For  nights  and  days  I've  wandered  far  and  wide, 
This  heavy  burden  in  my  heart  to  quell, 
But  now,  no  longer  shall  I  try  to  hide 
The  secret  which  my  breaking  heart  must  tell : 
I  love  thee,  Ailza,  as  no  man  hath  loved. 
My  love  is  not  as  other  men's  may  be, 
But  is  as  pure  as  that  of  Heaven  above, 
Such  as  the  gods  themselves  would  give  to  thee. 
O,  thou  who  art  so  noble,  good  and  pure, 
Whose  very  words  thine  own  sweet  soul  partake, 
Have  pity  on  me,  and  thy  love  assure 
Before  my  poor  distracted  heart  doth  break. 
(He  kneels  imploringly  at  her  feet) 

AILZA. 

(For  an  instant  is  completely  stunned,  then  cries) 

Ah  no No No No.    I  pity  thee— 

I  pity  thee — but  love — (laughing  wildly)  Why  thou 
Art  mad. 

Still  laughing  wildly,  she  advances  and  is  about 
to  denounce  Lucian,  when  she  observes  his  pitiful 


70 


condition,  and  with  a  supreme  effort  attempts  to 
stifle  her  emotions.  At  this  instant  the  sharp  cry  of 
Phillada  is  heard. 

PHILLADA. 
(Calling  off  scene).     Lucian,  Lucian. 

AILZA. 

It  is  thy  wife  that  calls ;  (pause) 
Thy  duty  bids  thee  go. 

(Half  dazed  he  enters  the  house) 

Exit  Lucian. 

Ailza  now  awakens  to  a  true  realization  of  what 
has  happened  and  in  despair  cries : 

AILZA. 

Ah,  now  I  see  it  all,  my  sorrows  must  have 
Veiled  mine  eyes,  I  have  been  blind  t  blind !  blind ! 
But  he,  why  surely  he  is  mad ;  he  cannot 
See  that  with  this  idle  talk  of  love  he 
Robs  me  of  the  friendship  of  his  wife,  and 
Drives  me  from  his  home.     Fool!  Fool!  he's  mad, 
he's  mad! 

(She  falls  into  chair,  and  looks  blankly  into  audito 
rium,  still  holding  the  writ  in  her  hand) 


Re-enter  Phillada  from  house,  under  great  excite 
ment  ;  she  passes  back  and  forth  behind  Ailza,  obliv 
ious  of  her  presence,  then  suddenly  stands  at  right 
of  stage,  looking  straight  into  auditorium  in  deep 
meditation. 

PHILLADA. 

(Aside) 
His  wild  and  haggard  look  filled  me  with  fear. 

AILZA. 
(Aside) 
With  but  a  single  word  he  crushed  my  hopes. 

PHILLADA. 

(Aside) 
He  passed  me  by  without  a  look  or  thought; 

AILZA. 
(Aside) 
And  this,  when  all  the  future  seemed  so  bright. 

PHILLADA. 
(Aside) 
*Fve  never  seen  him  thus  before. 

AILZA. 

(Aside)  Alas, 

Was  ever  creature  so  beset  as  I? 


72 


PHILLADA. 

(Aside) 

The  cause  I'll  know ;  I  will  not  be  forbid. 
(She  turns  and  regards  Ailza) 

AILZA. 

(Aside) 
Seek  as  I  may  there  's  only  one  escape — 

PHILLADA. 
(Suddenly) 

Ailza, — What,  hath  some  evil  spirit 
Thee  entwined  within  its  fatal  spell? 

AILZA. 
(Sadly) 

Nay 

PHILLADA. 

(Observing  the  writ) 

He  gave  thee,  then,  the  writ? 

AILZA. 
(Assents  but  does  not  reply) 

PHILLADA. 
What  said  he  unto  thee? 

AILZA. 

(Almost  in  tears) 
I  leave  to-morrow  for  my  native  land. 


73 


PHILLADA. 

Nay,  that  must  not,  shall  not  be.   (Pause)    O  tell 
Me  what  hath  passed,  I  beg  of  thee. 

AILZA. 
(Makes  no  reply,  but  breaks  down,  sobbing  aloud) 

PHILLADA. 

(Amazed) 

0  Lucian,  what  hast  thou  said,  what  hast 
Thou  done.    (She  rushes  into  house.) 

Exit  Phillada. 

AILZA. 

Enough,  my  duty  's  clear,  I  dare  not  stay 
A  moment  longer,  or  delay ;  I'll  go 
At  once,  take  passage  on  some  merchant  ship 
Bound  to  my  native  land,  and  then,  away 
Forever. 

(With  pathos) 
O,  bright  and  happy  home,  farewell, 

1  leave  thee  now  bowed  down  with  care  and  woe, 
My  cup  of  sorrow  's  filled  unto  the  brim, 

The  cruel  Fates  have  willed  it  to  be  so. 
Though  dark  and  dim  the  distant  future  be, 
Though  danger  lurk  on  sea  or  foreign  shore, 
Alas,  I  cannot  longer  stay  with  thee, 
But  must  away  to-night,  forever  more. 


74 


Farewell,  sweet  Phillada,  my  loving  friend, 
Farewell,  ye  children,  whom  I  love  so  well, 
My  breaking  heart  will  soon  my  sorrows  end, 
And  leave  ye  only  memory.    Farewell,  Farewell. 

Vivid  lightning  flashes  light  the  scene.  She  hesi- 
tates  in  terror  an  instant,  then  with  a  despairing 
cry  rushes  swiftly  to  the  town. 

Exit  Ailza. 

(Lightning  flashes  continue) 

SEMI-CHORUS. 
(Calling  off  scene) 
Lucian,  Lucian. 

Re-enter  Chorus  from  left. 

CHORUS. 
(Dramatically) 
The  hunted  fawn  escapes  thee,  Lucian. 

Exit  Chorus  left,  crying 
Woe,  Woe,  Woe. 


The  distant  rumbling  of  approaching  thunder  is 
heard,  bright  lightning  flashes  ray  the  murky  sky, 
loose  tangled  clouds  drift  o'er  the  horizon  as  rapidly 
the  storm  comes  on. 

Re-enter  Lucian  from  house. 


75 


LUCIAN. 


(Calling  softly) 
Ailza!  Ailza! — (pause).    Gone? 


LUCIAN. 


(Loudly) 
Eros!  Eros! 


Re-enter  Eros. 

EBOS. 
Good  master? 

LUCIAN. 

Quick,  into  town ;  our  Ailza 
Hath  escaped.  Seek  everywhere,  get  every 
Aid,  but  bring  her  back ;  'tis  life  or  death ; 

(Seizes  him  fiercely) 
Then  fail  me  not. 

EBOS. 
(Greatly  awed)        I  go. 

LUCIAN. 
She  must,  she  shall  return, — 

A  terrific  thunder  clap  cuts  short  his  speech,  in- 

76 


tensely  vivid  flashes  light  the  scene,  in  the  midst 
of  which  he  cries — 

LTJCIAN. 

O  blow,  ye  mighty  winds,  ye  fierce  and  fiery 
Thunderbolts,  crash  on ;  I  fear  ye  not, 
Nor  dread  ye  as  I  dread  uncertainty. 

(At  this  instant  re-enter  Eros  from  town) 

EROS. 

(Rushing  in  he  falls  upon  his  knees  at  his  mas 
ter's  feet,  speechless) 

LUCIAN. 
(Fiercely) 
Speak,  fool,  speak, — 

EROS. 

(Huskily)  None  can  withstand 

The  thunderbolts  of  Jove. 

LUCIAN. 

What  now,  fool? 


EROS. 
She  lies  upon  thy  threshold — dead, — 


77 


LUCIAN. 
(Completely  dazed)  DEADP 

EROS. 
(Sobbing) 
Aye,  dead. 

The  mocking  laughter  of  some  revellers  is  heard 
without.  Lucian,  stunned  by  this  dreadful  news, 
and  awe-stricken  at  this  unnatural  laughter,  how 
ever,  with  a  mighty  effort  tries  to  stifle  his  emo 
tions,  but  rinding  this  impossible,  in  agony  cries : 

LUCIAN. 

0  Mighty  Jove,  a  moment  past  in  agony 

1  mocked  thee, — Now  hast  thou  crushed 
Me  unto  dust. 

(He  falls  into  the  chair  at  table,  hides  his  head 
in  his  arms  and  sobs  aloud;  then  as  if  to  answer 
this  speech  a  second  and  more  distant  crash  of 
thunder  is  heard,  followed  by  vivid  lightning) 

CURTAIN. 

From  off  scene,  as  curtain  descends,  men's  voices 
are  heard  singing 

Dirge. 


THE    MUSIC. 

HE  musical  score  written  for  this  play  by 
H.  Claiborne  Dixon  is  of  particular  in 
terest,  in  that  certain  numbers  are  ar 
ranged  for  relief  and  others  to  accompany  the 
speaking  voice.  The  theme  of  the  poem  being  Fate 
and  Love,  these  ideas  have  naturally  been  conveyed 
in  the  music.  The  prelude  opens  with  a  melody 
in  the  minor  which  may  be  called  the  theme  of 
Fate;  this  is  followed  by  a  chorale  in  the  major, 
the  Love  theme,  which,  in  turn,  is  succeeded  by 
the  dominating  Fate  theme  transposed  to  the  major, 
with  which  the  prelude  concludes. 

The  same  themes  have  been  used  in  a  modified 
form  in  the  episodes  preceding  the  choral  hymns, 
but  their  complete  recall  is  not  made  until  the  con 
clusion  of  the  final  scene,  when  they  recur  with  full 
meaning  and  most  dramatic  effect. 

The  orchestral  score  is  written  for  two  violins, 
viola,  violoncello,  double  bass,  clarinet,  harp,  ket 
tledrums  and  piano,  nine  instruments  in  all. 

Another  score,  specially  adapted  for  readings 
of  the  poem,  has  been  arranged  for  piano,  reed  or 
gan,  solo  violin  and  kettledrums. 

These  scores  are  not  for  sale,  but  information 
regarding  them,  and  applications  for  permission  to 
present  the  work,  either  as  a  reading  or  as  a  play, 
may  be  made  through  the  publishers. 


79 


ERRATA. 

On  page  n,  first  paragraph,  second  line,  should 
read — combine  in  a  play  of  one  act  certain  of 
the  beauties  of  etc. 

On  page  57  omit —  Stand  before  curtain. 

At  foot  of  page  78,  should  read — Chorale  instead 
of  Dirge. 


GIVEN  UNDER  THE  AUSPICES 

OF 

THE  NATIONAL  ARTS  CLUB,  N.  Y. 


ENTERTAINMENT  COMMITTEE. 

MR.  CHARLES  DE  KAY,  Chairman. 

Miss   GABRIELLE   STEWART,   Secretary. 

MRS.  WINCHESTER  FITCH. 

MR.  J.   G.  WENTZ. 

MR.  G.  HARRY  SQUIRES. 

Miss  KATHARINE  C.  BUDD. 

Miss  L.  WATSON  CLARKE. 

MR.  WM.  S.  CRANDALL. 

MRS.  CHARLES  R.  LAMB. 


H    S3THVH3 
'A3NS3H3    DVJ^ 

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'0    ' 
HDIHNI3H 
'X 


'HOXI.JI 
Disnw  NO  aamwwoD-ans 


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